To Catch a Queen

by Shanna Swendson

  But there was one thing Tallulah hadn’t counted on: the impostor’s husband.

  Michael wrenched himself away from Sophie and strode forward to stand at the bottom of the dais steps, directly in front of the throne. “This woman is my wife, and I’ve come to claim her,” he declared.

  “Oh dear,” Sophie whispered to herself. This was about to get very complicated—and very dangerous.

  Thirty-five

  The Throne Room

  Next

  Michael hadn’t even thought before acting. All he knew was that he couldn’t let that crown be put on Jen’s head. Beyond that, he had no plan, no idea what to do next.

  The woman staring down at him from the silver throne looked like the wife he remembered, but she regarded him like he was a complete stranger. When he’d seen her in the Realm before, she’d been distressed when he said he was her husband. Now, though, she just looked at him with mild amusement.

  “You claim me as your wife, do you?” she said. “It’s not so easy to take a queen as your bride. You’ll have to win me.”

  Michael went cold as he realized he was facing that challenge Mrs. Smith had warned him about. Unfortunately, he was no better prepared now than he had been then. He’d made one trade of value, and then he’d become sidetracked by everything else that had happened since the market. What would he have to do to win his own wife back? Slay a dragon?

  Jen paused for a moment before she leaned forward, smiling slightly. “Do you love me, brave champion?”

  Feeling like he was trapped living out a fairy tale, he forced himself to respond in a way that fit the scenario. “With all my heart.” His voice broke slightly on the last word.

  She rose from her throne, and the air shimmered around her, dissolving her into a blur. The blur resolved into three Jens, all of them identical. “Which of us is the real one?” they asked in perfect unison.

  Of course, there would be a test. He had to prove his love for her, and a man who loved a woman should be able to pick her out of a lineup. He didn’t think it was fair, though, when they were perfect copies.

  He had to fight back a smile when he realized that was the trick. Two of them were illusions, and seeing past fae illusions was one of the gifts he’d been stuck with after his previous adventures in the Realm. He ever so casually slipped his hand into his pocket to grab the four-leaf clover keychain so he’d have all the help he could get with this. Jen had given him the keychain long ago, saying he was her lucky charm and he needed one of his own. He doubted she could possibly have imagined how he’d end up using it.

  After a blink, two of the Jens faded into nothingness. He walked straight to the one on the right, took her hand, and kissed it. “My lady,” he said formally. He hoped he wasn’t imagining things or flattering himself when he thought her smile looked genuine. Did she want him to win? Hope rose in his chest, giving him a surge of strength.

  What really surprised him was the response of the attendees. They applauded and shouted approval, and he glanced back to see that he had quite the cheering section. He supposed everyone loved a good romance. Then he noticed Sophie standing nearby. He’d forgotten about her in his rush to save Jen, and he could only imagine what she was thinking now. She’d probably kill him when she got a chance, but he didn’t care what she did after he got Jen out of this mess and safely back home.

  Actually, Sophie didn’t look too angry, he thought. She was very pale, and though she stood perfectly still, he could tell she was tense. The vibe he got from her was don’t screw this up. He had no intention of doing so.

  Jen slid her hand out of his grasp, and he realized he’d forgotten to let go. He felt the loss of her touch keenly as she moved back to her throne in a swish of skirts. “Well done, my brave champion,” she said as she took her seat, a hint of mockery in her tone, but perhaps a note of fondness, as well. Or was that just wishful thinking? “Now, what have you to offer for me?”

  If he’d said out loud what he was thinking, he’d owe the precinct a fortune for the penalty jar. He knew that was going to come up, and he’d utterly failed. He somehow doubted that a fairy-made shawl he’d traded an angel figurine for would hold muster. Otherwise, he had the keychain, about twenty bucks, his sidearm, and some iron nails that he didn’t think would go over well as a gift of love.

  She gestured toward his left hand. “Is that gold? That ring would do nicely, I’m sure.”

  He automatically folded his right hand over his left, hiding his wedding band. Without thinking, he said, “No. This ring doesn’t leave my finger. It hasn’t left my finger since you put it there nearly ten years ago.” Well, except for the time he was in surgery and intensive care, but he’d had no say in that, so he didn’t think it counted. He wasn’t sure if refusing her was the right thing to do—maybe he was supposed to give up anything, including the token of their love, in order to win her. After all, the ring was merely a thing, a symbol, and she was what really mattered. But it felt right. Sophie and the enchantresses had told him that he’d never be able to free Jen if he’d moved on, and the ring was a sign that he hadn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie nodding ever so slightly, so he had a feeling he’d passed a test.

  Jen looked vexed for a split second, but then she smiled. “I will not ask for your ring. But surely you have something else of value to give, if you treasure me as much as you say you do.”

  “Who will I be paying?” he asked, mostly to stall for time. “Am I buying you from someone, or am I winning you with a gift?”

  “It is for me, of course,” she said. “And I am not easily impressed. I have all this.” She gestured at her jewel-encrusted clothes and the opulent surroundings. He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered their original courtship. She was the daughter of a wealthy, important man, and he was a cop, still in uniform back then. Although she was trying to make it on her own as an actress without relying on her father’s money, she was hard to impress with material goods. He wouldn’t have stood a chance if he’d had to buy her affections with gifts and favors. It had been a fancy date if they ate at a restaurant with seats instead of grabbing something from a street cart.

  Then he remembered: He had a favor! That counted as currency in this world, and it would be hard to put a price on it. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the embroidered cloth. “This was given to me to signify a debt owed to me,” he said. “I delivered a baby. I understand that doesn’t happen very often here.” The collective gasp of the audience behind him was almost enough to create suction, it was so strong. He got the impression he’d made a good move.

  He stepped forward to hand the token to Jen. “Now the favor is owed to you,” he said.

  She gave a sidelong glance to where the other fairy rulers still stood in a line. He guessed that the guy in the tux was pulling her strings. He’d gone first in recognizing her, and Michael knew for a fact that he knew Jen was an impostor because he’d been there when Sophie won the throne. The tux guy didn’t look happy, but the audience was too enthusiastic about this gift for him to get away with making Jen reject it. He nodded slightly, and Jen’s eyes went distant for a moment, as though she was listening to instructions on a magical earwig.

  Jen returned her focus to Michael, and she granted him a warm smile. He might have been imagining things, but he was sure she looked more like herself and less like the brainwashed shell she’d been when she’d first sat on the throne. Were the bonds on her weakening? Mrs. Smith had mentioned having to show bravery, and he didn’t want to think about what that might entail. Maybe that was where the dragon came in.

  “This is an excellent gift,” Jen said, squeezing the cloth in her hand, then apparently noticing what she was doing and spreading it out carefully on her knee. “You have demonstrated your love and shown how much you value me, but love is not enough to catch a queen. No, my consort must be the bravest champion in the Realm, defending me against all my enemies.”

  I knew it, Michael thought. He wonder
ed what this was going to entail. He’d had hand-to-hand training in the academy, but taking down a perp as quickly and efficiently as possible wasn’t the sort of thing that made for a good show of fairy-tale valor. He had no idea what to do with a sword beyond acting out lightsaber battles with his brothers using cardboard gift-wrap tubes. He wondered if he could get away with pulling an Indiana Jones and just shooting his sword-swinging opponent. He was a really good shot, and that should count for something.

  Of course, it all depended on the opponent. Was he going to have to joust against the queen’s champion? But no, she’d mentioned enemies. One of the free fae who didn’t want a queen?

  Jen rose from the throne and came toward him, taking his hands in hers and bringing them to her breast. “My greatest enemy is among us here today. There is a vile witch who would keep me from my rightful throne. Slay her for me and win my heart.” She released his hands, ending him off on the mission.

  Michael glanced at the tall, red-haired fairy who’d insisted that Jen put on the crown before she’d kneel. Was this the “witch” he was to slay? And how was he supposed to do that? “I’m not really armed for this sort of thing,” he said. A split second later, a sword appeared in his hand. “Oh, good,” he muttered. Now he just had to avoid making a fool out of himself. And slay a witch.

  Jen wasn’t looking at the red-haired fairy, though. She was looking out into the crowd, and there Michael saw a woman who looked like the evil queen’s disguise in the Disney Snow White movie, the old hag who offered the princess a poisoned apple. She certainly looked evil, but she also looked like an unarmed old woman. It didn’t seem very gentlemanly to go after her with a sword.

  He glanced at Jen, who pointed at the woman and shouted, “Kill her!”

  When he turned back to his opponent, he saw her out of the corner of his eye and realized it was Sophie. To free his wife, would he have to kill his friend?

  He stood frozen, unable to act. This situation was utterly impossible. He couldn’t kill Sophie, not even for Jen. The human world needed a fairy ruler who wasn’t the puppet of an anti-human psycho, so Sophie needed to win. And that meant he’d lost. All that effort to save his wife, and it came down to this.

  Sophie hadn’t moved, either. She just stared at him with her odd, mismatched eyes, seemingly daring him to attack. He couldn’t, though. As formidable as Sophie was, she wasn’t his enemy, and she was unarmed. As if reading his mind, she dropped her tote bag and held out her hand. A sword appeared in her grasp. With a theatrical flourish, she spun around neatly and landed in a defensive posture. He suddenly remembered everything she’d said about how dancers were fast, agile, strong, and had excellent balance and great endurance. He might have more upper-body strength when he was at his best, and his significant height difference gave him a better reach, but he had a feeling he was toast if she really fought.

  He studied her face for a moment and thought he saw a glimmer of something in her eyes. He knew she’d do everything in her power to help him win back Jen and that she also wasn’t going to let fairy politics harm the human world. He was going to have to trust her and hope she trusted him. He let his bag slip off his shoulder and raised his weapon.

  Thirty-six

  Elsewhere in the Throne Room

  Meanwhile

  Emily barely had time to react to the fact that Jen was the impostor queen before Michael stepped up. That meant Sophie was around somewhere. She wouldn’t be that far from Michael. Emily just couldn’t see her sister anywhere. That had to be either because she was short or because she had put on a glamour. Maybe both. If she was here, the fireworks were sure to begin soon.

  But really, Jen was the fake? “Oh,” Emily said out loud, drawing Eamon and the enchantresses’ attention away from the drama on the dais. “I bet I know what that compulsion was about. Whoever’s behind this—and I’m betting on Niall—needed a fake who matches Sophie’s description. Who better than her sister? I’ve got similar coloring, and I’m human with fae blood, though it isn’t as obvious as in Sophie. They were trying to pull me back to the Realm. When that didn’t work, they went with plan B, which is Jen. She got taken in the first place because they thought she was me, so other than the lack of fae blood, she fits.”

  “And the compulsion to get you into the palace?” Amelia asked.

  “Jen may have been resisting, so they needed a backup.” Emily returned her attention to the dais, where three Jennifers were facing Michael. “She’s going along with it now.”

  “She may not have much choice,” Eamon said. “If she’s under the kind of thrall you were under, she may be unable to resist the orders she’s being given.”

  Emily barely suppressed a shudder at the thought of what might have happened to her if Sophie hadn’t meddled and sent Eamon to babysit her. She could have been the puppet on the throne, luring her sister into danger.

  “Why, Emily Mae, look at you, all grown up.” The voice jolted her back to the present, and she turned to find herself facing a stranger who looked oddly familiar. She was a petite redhead dressed in a “ladies who lunch” suit. If it hadn’t been so far from Sophie’s style, she’d have almost mistaken the woman for her sister. But she seemed older than Sophie, even though she didn’t look old at all. The woman smiled, clearly enjoying Emily’s discomfiture. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own grandmother.”

  “Nana?” Now it all clicked into place. Emily had seen old family photos in which Nana had looked like this, but they were back from when Emily and Sophie’s father had been a boy. The last time Emily had seen her grandmother had been at Christmas several years ago, and Nana had been bedridden and barely lucid—nothing like the woman facing her now. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your sister needed my help.”

  “So you got out of bed and came into the Realm?”

  “Don’t be silly. Sophie and her friend came and got me. And don’t worry, we left a changeling so your mother won’t know.”

  Emily wasn’t sure how to react to seeing her invalid grandmother looking young again and in the middle of things in the fairy realm. It was hard to decide which thing to freak out about. “So, Sophie popped out of the Realm, brought you here, left a changeling, and apparently made you young and healthy again because she needs help?”

  “Exactly. I’m glad you’ve finally caught up.” Nana glanced around the throne room, sizing up the situation. “And I can see why Sophie thought she’d need help. She seems to be in some trouble, and her friend isn’t helping matters. I thought we’d discussed not forcing a confrontation.”

  “The impostor turned out to be his wife, who was taken by the fairies years ago,” Emily explained.

  “Oh, yes, that would explain his behavior. She mentioned his wife being taken, but I didn’t realize this was the wife. That rather complicates the situation, doesn’t it? Is he a threat to Sophie?”

  “I don’t think so. They’re pretty good friends.” Out of discretion, she decided to leave out the part about Sophie being in love with him. Nana would probably figure that out for herself. “Sophie will do what it takes to help him free his wife.” She turned to the others. “Can Michael free her, or is all this just for show?”

  “There are rules,” Eamon said. “If he fulfills the requirements of the trial, she has to be freed. That’s how the magic works.”

  “Which means the trials may be impossible,” Amelia said. “That’s how the fae like to do things.”

  Nana cleared her throat and looked very pointedly at Eamon and the enchantresses. “Oh, right,” Emily said. “Nana, this is Amelia and Athena. I used to work for them. They’re enchantresses. And this is my friend Eamon. Guys, this is my grandmother, Leonie Drake.” Nana raised an eyebrow at the introduction of the fairy, but she didn’t comment. Emily wondered if Sophie had briefed her on that.

  Up at the dais, a sword appeared in Michael’s hand. “Now may be the time for your army to make its presence known,” Amelia said to Emily. “You sho
uld go get them.”

  “But Michael’s here, and that means Sophie is here, too. She has to be,” Emily protested.

  “What would you do to help them if you stayed?” Athena asked.

  That wasn’t really a fair question. “Moral support?” Emily suggested weakly.

  “They don’t need another spectator,” Nana said.

  “But it might confuse matters somewhat if yet another would-be queen arrives at the head of her army,” Amelia put in. Emily looked back and forth among the three women. If they tag-teamed, she was in trouble.

  “They were going to use you, so it fits,” Athena added.

  Emily couldn’t help but grin. “I like the way you think. Sophie may kill me, but I’ll die having fun.” She took Eamon’s hand. “Come on. I’ll need glamouring up. Y’all watch Beau. Don’t let him do anything stupid.” Considering that the dog was sprawled on the floor, snoring, there wasn’t much chance of anything resembling action on his part, but when Sophie was involved, there was no telling what might happen.

  The audience was so caught up in the events at the front of the throne room that it was relatively easy to slip out. Even the guards had moved away from the doors in an attempt to get a better vantage point.

  Things were somewhat different outside, where the festivities continued, the gathered crowd oblivious to what was taking place inside. It was probably a good thing the Realm didn’t have Jumbotrons, Emily thought. This way, she might stand a chance of having the entire crowd on her side before she entered the palace at the head of her army.

  The Hunt didn’t seem to be making its rounds anymore, which made Emily wonder what they were up to. But she didn’t have time to worry about that. She and Eamon hurried up the hill to where the army still waited.